


Duck Newton, Ghost Whisperer

by thegreatandpowerfultoaster



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast), The Adventure Zone: Amnesty (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, Character Death, Ghosts, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mild Gore, Multi, POV Second Person, Rewrite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-18 04:22:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20633009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatandpowerfultoaster/pseuds/thegreatandpowerfultoaster
Summary: Kepler is a sleepy little town that gets the most traffic around the first snow of the season. The rest of the time, it's just a small town with about as much excitement as a guy like Duck can handle.Or at least...He thought it was.((Redux))





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Duck Newton, Ghost Whisperer](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17617673) by [thegreatandpowerfultoaster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatandpowerfultoaster/pseuds/thegreatandpowerfultoaster). 

1987

_"My prayer and the answer you give_  
May they still be the same  
For as long as we live  
That you'll always be there  
At the end of my prayer

_My prayer is to linger with you_  
At the end of each day  
In a dream that's divine  
My prayer is a rapture in blue  
With a world far away  
And your lips close to mine . . ."

At least it's something other than Tom Jones ringing through the old jukebox in the diner. Anywhere you go, that's usually the case.

The fullest table in the place collectively waves you over, and there they all are, packed into to tight a space and trying to make room for one more. Five people scootching around to make room for you. 

"Indrid!" they call towards the doorway as you step through to the ringing of the bell above and hold your sweater a little closer. "Indrid, over here!" 

The bright pastel colors of the place tinted a light red from your glasses is stylized to look closer to something from thirty years ago than a modern establishment.

Those colors, plus loud Jukebox, and yelling friends are more than you're usually equipped to deal with, but today it isn't feeling so bad. 

Especially since there are five people currently sitting down, and six milkshakes, and a spot right next to the man you're very much in love with. 

So you smile at them, like it isn't so loud in here or so big and squeeze at the end of the booth, where there's a slowly melting peppermint milkshake and a warm Arlo Thacker waiting. They chatter and charter some more, not stopping for you, but Arlo leans down to whisper in your ear. "You packed, hon?"

"Of course I am. And I packed for you too, since Madeline said she wanted to be out of town by the time the sun was up." 

"Oh har har. I jus' like bein' thorough is all." 

You hum and take a long drink of your shake, listening the jukebox start the next song in what is undoutablely twelve " What's New Pussycat?'s" with one "My Prayer" in the middle. 

"I'm very ready to be home after that ordeal," Moira says once it gets quiet enough for her to even be heard. You nod in agreement, thinking of your-well, Arlo's room at the Amnesty Lodge back in Kepler, and your new-ish Winnebago, already trashed with crumpled up drawings and spoiling food in the fridge, because of course you can't be neat for even a couple months with a new thing. 

Everyone agrees, though whether it's about their last job or going home you can't quite figure. 

Personally you don't think this last job was a bad one, except for the drive, maybe. It was pretty standard as far as jobs the six of you worked. 

An angry spirit in an old library. You didn't have to know it's motives to figure the train station had something it was tied to strongly enough to keep it there and between yourself, Moira, and Mike you'd managed to figure it out and stop the attacks in two nights.

Barclay stretches up to his full seated height, which manages to still be intimidating, even after the decade and a half you've known the man. "Well, I think it's best if I turn in early, since I'm going to be driving most of the way back. See you all first thing in the morning."

They send him off and the conversation picks back up again, full speed ahead. One by one your friends turn in for the night and suddenly the diners about to close, so you, Arlo and Moira are left no other choice but to follow in their footsteps.

"Goodnight, Moira. We'll see you in the morning." You say, pushing your glasses up on your head as you have her goodbye, as the vast thing above you had suddenly caught your often fickle attention.

The sky is such a light blue it looks purple, and you find yourself counting the stars and wondering how different they are from Kepler, which is five hours away. Arlo grabs your hand because he's well aware of your tendency to get lost in your own thoughts, and then just plain get lost. 

He's humming under his breath, or maybe just muttering, but you hold on to that and try not to trip over the uneven parts of the sidewalk as you head back to the hotel.

After a minute you stop looking just up at the sky and let your glasses fall back into place, and then come to rest flush at Arlo's side, because he's warm, and you're getting cold. 

Soon enough you're in the hotel bed, huddled under the blankets and determined to stay awake just for another minute, but you're warm, and safe and there's no one in the world feeling better than you right now.

You have to have fallen asleep in the car. Because next thing you remember after packing up and leaving is Madeline shaking you awake from behind, telling you that they had to stop, because something's wrong. 

At first you don't even manage to freak out. You've all known Mike's van wasn't going to last a lot longer after this trip, it just figured that it'd start now, when you were all using it. "Where are we?"

"Five miles out from the lodge, we just passed the Welcome to Kepler sign. There was something in the woods."

At first it doesn't register. There are plenty of things in the woods. You peer out the window, half-asleep brain looking for a deer in the road or a big car in the shadows, when you realize that it's too dark to see anything other than a few feet into the tree line. You glance to the clock in the van.

It's a little before noon, but it's like midnight outside. You look back at Madeline. "What was it?"

"Big, " she says. "Bigger than a bear. Lots 'a red eyes all over it. Never seen anythin' like it. Barclay and Thacker-well, mostly Thacker said they got it handled and everyone else oughta wait here."

For a brief moment you're sure your nausea is going to kill you inside you, and you're quick to launch yourself out the passenger door. Because yourself still in a half asleep state but you know something is desperately wrong with this situation. 

Call it a strange sense of intuition, call it nothing at all, you still take action. You can hear Madeline yelling after you, and you hear the van door slam, but beyond that it's just rustling trees and darkness. Somewhere, far, far away you can hear a cry of pain from Barclay, but it echoes around you and you can't possibly tell where it's coming from, so you run farther and farther into you're face to face with it.

It's not even a second that you actually can see it. Not long enough to make out any features in the dark that Madeline hadn't already made you aware of. It's massive, and you can feel it's heavy breaths even this far away. 

It's many red eyes blink in tandem, and while it's wholeheartedly unnerving, you've spent all of your adult life hunting things that wanted to drive you out and make you scared of them, this is something else entirely.

The shiver of dread running through your entire body doesn't stop when the thing flickers away. 

And then you hear Arlo scream, and it's over so quickly. He's close, and your heart is pounding and you're not at all cut out for running anywhere at all, but it doesn't matter. 

But it's too late.

Arlo Thacker lays prostrate on the ground just inside Kepler city limits, not breathing, not that you notice at first. 

At first you think he's just hurt, or in shock, because there aren't any physical wounds on his body. In the dark you can't see how pale he is, or how his eyes are gone, burned out of their own fucking sockets. You are then later, of course and end up hunched over the toilet for an hour, but not right then.

You just put your head on his chest gently and hold his too-cold hand in yours and even while Madeline and Barclay and the others are trying to pull you away and check his long gone pulse.

And thus it begins for you, Indrid Cold. 


	2. Chapter 2

It's cold. It's freezing and dark and you're lost and you just want to go home now and you don't know why you thought this was a good idea.

You call their name into the woods, and risk a glance through the thick trees. There's no reply. Damnit.

"Hollis! Hollis, where the hell did you go?"

It's useless, but you call it again, up into the canopy of leaves.

They aren't coming back.

Should you stay here? Should you start walking the direction you think might be back? Should you wait for them, even though you know it's useless and you're lost in the middle of a nine hundred thousand acre forest, give or take a few acres. 

There's something breathing behind you, now, and that really sours any plans that you'd been thinking of. 

It's sucking in deep breath after deep breath and snarling. Your heart is pounding in your ears, as you ready yourself and count to three before bolting.

It isn't a chase, really. You're caught in no time at all and you just wish you'd said something against this whole escapade in the first place. 

Your eyes burn first, and while you can't feel exactly what's happening through the adrenaline fading into white hot pain, you can definitely tell that those are not tears dropping from them, and in horror you realize what has happened already, and what is about to happen now.

Hollis is screaming your name in the distance, and you just wish you could tell them to run before it gets them, or they see you like this.


	3. Chapter 3

You saw Thacker once. After what had happened that night, at the funeral. Madeline and Barclay had tried so hard to not let you, but it had happened anyways, and you'd just froze up and tried not to connect the memories of cozy nights and thrilling thoughts and falling in love with the man in your head nd the body in the open casket.

You recall how your hands had shook and how Barclay had ushered you away and told you that it was not your fault, but your eyes still watered as you left and let everyone else mourn man who couldn't possibly just be gone like that after he'd done so much good. 

And you could have stopped it if you only could've moved before it had got to him.

You sit with your eyes downward at the desk in Mama's office, barely a week later. 

"Indrid," she says. "I can see you crying through those damned atrocious glasses. We can't let this stop us. Thacker knew the risks. Not like we don't miss him, but we really don't have time for this. Whatever got him is still out there and it's our responsibility to get it before it hurts anyone else in Kepler, alright?" 

_She's so much stronger than you are._

You nod wordlessly, but you don't manage to wipe away the tears before they reach below your glasses. Barclay pats your back and guides you to the kitchen and gets you some hot chocolate with a lot of extra sugar dumped in.

After that affair Madeline decides she won't let you work anymore, and you're stuck as for what to do then. You don't know what Barclay said to her, either but it doesn't helped any.

Before you were sad and mopey but you had been almost ready to act....now you're just sad and pacing and hopeless and not sure what to do with your hands.

It gets worse. And worse and worse and most days you don't even leave your Winnebago now, just sit inside and draw and tried to think of how you could have fixed things.

They never catch what had killed Thacker anyways. 

That doesn't hit you like you'd thought it would. Like it probably should.

You're not as sad, anymore. Well, you _are_ but it's countered by not feeling much of anything. 

Not caring. Not caring what happens to yourself, mostly.

Since you can't fix anything, what does it matter? You couldn't help then, and you can't help now. You're useless and so, so far from content.

For a while you consider doing something that might be rash. Irreversible...except then you just end up in the hospital and neither Mama not Barclay will leave your side for anything. They take turns sleeping in the chair next to you.

Now you're _really_ not getting back on the team.

When you're finally out of the hospital they try to make you stay at the lodge. You won't, but you've been feeling better enough lately to promise then you won't do anything again.

It's hard to decide whether that helps or hurts your case, but it's the first any one of you had mentioned the incident in question, and you might call it a step forward.

So you go home and pace some more and just when things are looking hopeless and altogether awful again you start to have dreams.

They don't feel like dreams, actually but your terrified to think you might be having visions, and even more terrified to think that your sanity had gone that far down the drain. You have two very distinct types of dreams.

A lovely woman, broad shoulders and covered in all sorts of fascinating markings is speaking to you in a forest.

The first few times it happens, all she's speaking is gibberish that you can't hope to make sense of-it seems like she's speaking an entirely different language than you are.

But... It's a matter of listening harder, it seems and things become more clear every time you have the dream.

"You're waiting!" She booms and _my_, if she isn't a proud looking woman, if also rather intimidating. "You're waiting for the Chosen! As am I dear friend!"

"Well then," you say as soon as you learn how to speak, but the words out of your mouth are not your own, not yet at least. "Let's wait for him together, shall we?"

She nods happilly, and holds out her hand to you. "You are a good friend to wait with me for him. It will be some time, you know."

"I know," You tell her. Who is this Chosen, and why do you both want to wait for him? "Will you tell me about him?"

The dream ends. You still know nothing, but it's something and it's enough to keep you going. She tells you more, but that's closer to the end. Or is it the beginning?

The other dreams are different. It's all flashes of darkness, and blood and silver and somehow you know that there are real people behind these dreams who are being ripped apart the ways you are in your sleep.

You _yearn_ to stop it, but the memory of standing powerless as Thacker was sucked into the cold grey corpse you'd last seen him as haunts you.

So you do nothing.

And you'd tell Madeline or Barclay or _someone_ about this but you know it wouldn't help.

It only gets worse from there. You start writing letters. To yourself? You don't know. Maybe to the Chosen, whoever this man will be. You aren't trying to remember anything...it's all burned into your brain anyways.

These letters go under the sink so you don't have to look at them again once they're written. 

Things keep going. You think you're doing a little better. You have a purpose, even if you're not certain what it is yet.

And then, one dark night, you put your glasses into their drawer and begin to pile up the covers upon your bed before the temperature drops to..._why it has to be below zero._ The blankets won't be of any help, but you don't Intend on sleeping now, anyways.

Because this is not a normal chill. This is unnatural, like the thing currently in your house.

You're lucky to make it into the kitchen area, teeth chattering together as you throw everything out of place in a search for salt. You're quick to make a border that shouldn't be crossable to any spirit before the wind blows through an opening that isn't there and you feel it's presence. Something big.

And you recall the woman in the woods, holding out her hand to you in your dreams, and the thing in the forest . You see the people in your dreams being pulled apart.

And you see a pair of eyes belonging to a man you've never met before, a man who you won't even meet for years.

And then you feel the rush of your soul leaving your body behind and pain so harsh that that it numbs you, and you have the thought that death should be kinder than this.


	4. Chapter 4

You don't know when it starts, exactly. Maybe it was a more gradual thing, or maybe it was just as sudden as it felt. 

The cuboard doors fly open and closed, and electronics spark, and even when you've unplugged the TV it still plays reruns of The Voice. 

You didn't -no. You _don't_ believe in ghosts, but you're not sure what else you're supposed to get, between that and the wailing.

Yep. Usually the wailing happens at night, or when you're not at home. Your cat likes to cry back at the usually wordless sounds, anyways and between that and the doors slamming shut before opening again all night you're really not getting enough sleep.

Whatever's in your house gives you a sort of sick feeling inside, like you'd eaten something Juno Divine had brought to a company potluck without your knowledge and had to pretend it was good without looking too bad-off. 

At some point, though, something had moved into your apartment, and you were certain it was not at all friendly. 

After a while it you doing your best to not acknowledge that you're probably being haunted, the wailing started up during the day time. 

Fabulous, excellent. Now you can't even catch up on sleep after work, to make up for the sleep lost during the night.

You get fed up, after a long day of showing fifth graders a forest that most of them had no interest in. You snap. "Hey, asshat!" You'd yelled and the doors stopped opening and shutting for a second. "I don't wanna fuckin' hear it unless you're helpin' pay the rent, got it?"

Then the doors go back to slamming and the chains start to rattle, which is definitely new. 

So...that didn't work, but you don't think you're as terrified as you were before. Which isn't saying much since you aren't an especially brave person. You mostly just like to not acknowledge these things, whenever possible.

You pull yourself out of bed and decide to take care of the kitty's meowing over a half-full food dish before you even close the cupboards and doors that will no doubt open right back up again. The TV starts, so you turn it off and head into the kitchen.

The TV switches itself back on, even though it's unplugged. It's been weeks since it was unplugged, that just doesn't matter. You keep making coffee and start to work on the buttons of your uniform, which is still far too snug for comfort and you really oughta get your ass on that dieting and shit, like you've been meaning to.

The walls start oozing blood.

Nevermind on the diet, you don't think you'll need to eat for a while. "Yep," you sigh at the not-as-empty as it should be room. "Fuck you too, I guess." 

The TV gets louder, and the white noise and wordless wails fade into something worse. Panic shoots down, freezing cold into your insides and leaves everything shaking. It's trying to talk, God. Is it trying to talk to you? It's never done that before. You've never wanted it to.

Bloody walls seem to pulse, but at least you know Leo isn't gonna come over anytime soon to complain-you're the only one who's ever going to see it.

_"Duck. Newton?" _It's words, it's your name, made out of tinny snippets coming from the TV, pieced together like a ratty patchwork blanket._ "Help."_

"I can't help you! I dunno what you want from me!" Your voice comes out weak, exausted. Why can't this all just stop. You'd never had a problem with this apartment before! Why'd it have to just start?

_"Help," _it says again. Over and over and over. _"Help."_

"Fine! Fine!" You've long since covered your ears but it does nothing to cancel out the noise. 

But isn't it coming from your TV? It doesn't have to make sense, right? None of this makes any fucking sense anyways. The noise quiets and the walls stop acting like they're made of flesh. 

Thank God.

Slowly you move to call in to work...it's fine. You've got vacation days aplenty. Except.Juno stops you. 

"Wait, are you sure you can't come in for an hour or so? We've got an unregistered RV around one of the campgrounds and uh..._well_, Duck you seem to be a little better at handling that than I am."

She's just jumpy since last time, Pigeon Wilson had almost shot her. The two were good friends now, but you suppose you can understand why she wants help. "Sure. Just give me an hour and I'll meet you out there."

"Thanks," she says. "Take care of yourself , Duck."

God, you're trying but you've found yourself in some weird shit that you don't dare tell anyone else about and maybe 'safe' isn't even a possibility anymore.

You make exactly no headway in your hour. In fact, just like usual, the ghost-if that's what it is-is gone again, like it usually is by the time you first wake up. 

For a minute you're tempted to yell at it, but at least that means it won't try to cause problems for you when you've got to head out...probably.

Juno's tapping her foot slightly on the squishy dust turned mud outlining the place where the campground sits. The campground is entirely empty, except a Winnebago with dark tinted windows and scratched paint. It looks dilapidated and long, long abandoned.

"How long's it been out here?"

"A few weeks. Three-ish, maybe." Your brain doesn't even make the connection between that and when your other problem started, but your heart nearly stops in your chest, and you stumble backwards, and then surge forward a step, with no control on your own body. 

She quickly rushes over to you. "Shit, shit Duck! You okay there?"

You can barely manage a croak of, "Fine," but at least your heart beat has evened out some and you can move all of your limbs again. "I'm fine, let's just get this over with."

You make your ways slowly up to the Winnebago and you reach to knock on the door. "Uhh, park service?"

It opens, but there's no one at the doorway. Luckily that isn't the weirdest thing you've seen this week, so you're pretty quick to just walk in.

Somehow between the doorway and the inside of the 'bago the temperature changes from_ 'a fall morning in West Virginia' _to _'the fuckin' eternal fires of hell'._

And then the moths fly out, through the doorway. There's dozens of them. Small ones, huge ones and everything in-between. Juno screams and you're quick to cover your face as best as you can, but it slides to a trickle within moments.

Juno looks a little off-color behind you and you're quick to turn around and place a hand on your friend's shoulder. "Hey, hey! We're good, okay? There's no one in here, let's just impound the damn thing and get out of here, 'kay?"

She nods quickly. "Yeah. Yeah, let's go. This place is weirdin' me out."

You rush her out the door as fast as you're able, but the door pushes itself between you two and you are stuck in the inside, her on the outside. Juno starts pounding on the door, and she calls your name (the real one, once before she switches back to Duck. You'll get over it).

The door won't open. And something behind you is getting louder quickly, although you're trying very hard to ignore it and break through a window over a cluttered table.

Somethings pulling at you like a vacuum from deeper inside the Winnebago. It's not pulling physically but whatever's back there is pushing it's way into your head, and soon enough the window and the door aren't even a priority.

Whatever is practically roaring behind you follows as you wander into the very back of the Winnebago and dig through a worn dresser until you find what you're looking for (what _are_ you looking for?)

Theres something in your hand, and it's getting harder and harder to understand what it is. Your hands themselves...they aren't a problem anymore, at least. You can't feel them, and your legs are turning to gel just as quickly.

You don't remember when you had collapsed. You don't remember collapsing at all, so you had to have passed out at some point before that. Juno has stopped yelling outside and whatever had been following you is no longer around.

It's dificult, but not impossible to lug yourself to your feet. You stumble forward little by little, ignoring the new weight in your pocket pulling you back down. You get in front of the door again, and manage to tug it open with about as much resistance as it should have.

Except you don't open the door to see the beautiful -_Your_ beautiful Monongahela.

It's so dark, the only lighting outside is an eerie red coming from far, far away.

And you're maybe not as scared as you should be. Which isn't saying a lot, since this is shit-your-pants terrifying and you're almost there, but you're also a little bit annoyed.

Why you? You're just an average dude, and you shouldn't have to deal with this, or _keep_ dealing with this supernatural trainwreck. You just kinda want to go back to bed, now.

It's a bad idea, but you walk towards the light anyways, repeating your resolve. _What's the worst that can happen?_

The light seems to be getting a little closer now.

_What's the worst that can happen?_

You hope Juno's doing alright.

_What's the worst that can happen?_

You'd always been happy to live in a boring town.

_What's the worst that can happen?_

No, wait. You're not getting closer to the light, you haven't gotten any farther from the Winnebago. It's getting closer to you.

_What's the worst that can-_

A tall figure folds his hands nearly in front of him and smiles. "You're here," he says. This doesn't fill you with the sort of heart-stopping dread that it oughta. The bright light all around you flashes, and suddenly there's nothing.

Your head is screaming in pain, and when you move to open your eyes something isn't right. Everything looks sort of red until you blink it back, and you see Juno looking at you from above, looking more distressed than you'd seen her in your whole life.

"Fuck! I thought you were fucking dead there for a second, what the actual fuckin'-fuck!"

The high, familiar ceilings of the station are above you, and God, you wish you knew what happened between before and now. "Hey, Juno," you say quietly, blinking up at her, and moving to rub your head.

She gives you a look. "Uh...Yeah, Duck?"

"Can I have the rest of the day off now?"

"Fuck I...I guess? Do I need to take you to a hosptital?"

Surprisingly enough you think you're doing all right. Bruised up like an old banana? Maybe, but nothing seroius. You shake your head and just mention that fact that you've had a very long day already and would just like to go home now. She gives you another look but this time the ratio of worry to disbelief is a little lower.

She walks you out to your car, before asking again if you're alright. Come to think of it, you might actually have a concussion but you also need to get home and yell at a ghost. Obviously you're not going to say that, though.

"I saw that, right?" She asks through the window rolled down on the passengers side. "And you saw it too? I'm not crazy?"

You shake your head. "That was way too real, Juno and we both saw the way the door shut like that. What ah...happened after that?"

"Ran back to get bolt cutters the second I realized there was no way in there. Couldn't even break through the window, it didn't matter what I tried. I'd get the damn thing impounded now, but I don't think I wanna screw with whatever's happening there. I found you on the floor when I got back, door was open."

"I thought I was running out into the forest but...I dunno, there was something really weird about it. I'm not entirely sure it was just a 'I hit my head' thing. It felt way too real for any of that."

"There's something's creepy as fuck goin' on over there, Duck but I don't wanna get into it if we don't have to."

"Agreed," You say but you're already in too deep.


	5. Chapter 5

You had anticipated how hard it is to possess a person. Objects? Those are easy, even when everything is fuzzy and he doesn't have much control of himself.

Minerva probably couldn't possess anyone. Aside from having to have some level of finesse, it also requires the sort of control spirits lose over themselves with time.

You didn't know that, before you became one, and occasionally wonder if it would have been any use to you when your job was hunting them down.

You're very tired now, and not at all certain you did the whole possession thing right, but Ranger Newton seems to be alright. He waves off his co-workers care and good in his truck. You place yourself in the seat beside him, if only for your own sake, since he can't see you, and you can't really sit anywhere without your glasses on your head.

At some point, you decide the road is too quiet, and reach to turn on the radio, and through what willpower you have left it's done.

Duck looks...less than hapoy, but he'll get it. You just need to get your things from him, and then minerva's, and she can help make things perfectly clear to her Chosen one. 

Switching on the radio hadn't helped your weariness at all, so you lean back in the seat and close your eyes, sighing deeply, thankful that you don't have to drive anywhere, just feel yourself in this car when you're by to keep yourself here.

Duck hasn't even got the ignition off when you step through the car and carefully step up to the front door, opening it for him as he walks up the stairs. My, he looks nearly as tired as you feel. He shuts the door and collapses into the couch, and you wait for him to get settled before sitting near his feet.

The next step is...awkward, but wholly necessary. You reach into Duck Newton's back pocket and take out your glasses. They're heavy, almost overwhelmingly so, by this point, but they thrum with a familiar energy, and you get to put them on in the first time in thirty-something years.

It's like a part of you was missing, or a fog was cleared. The red tint is comfortable and soothing. You don't need the color anymore, per say but the shade is like coming home after a very, very long day.

And when your breath in, you can almost pretend you can feel the air coming into your lungs. You can feel the expansion of your diaphram as you take in the unnecessary breaths and blink a few timrs. 

It's almost too much sensation, and you haven't even bothered to take a good look at the apartment you've been inhabiting in a sort of half awake state for almost a month. 

You look up at duck and realize that you haven't said anything yet. His eyes are wide and his mouth hangs open less than tactfully. 

_Quick, Indrid. Think of something snappy, make an excellent first impression._

"Hello, I'm Indrid Cold. And-" you stop then because you really notice duck, and he's painted in all shades of red, and that doesn't diminish your noticing, at all. "And you're Duck Newton."

Duck looks at you too, for a little while. And then he laughs, a little. "Oh, God. I'm finally crazy." 

"Thank you for the faith," you say lightly, and roll your eyes, though through your opaque glasses, it's rather unlikely he can see. "I was hoping that Minerva would be here in well...the flesh to help me explain all this, but she isn't so we'll make do." 

He just blinks at you. "Are you the ghost who's been haunting me? What the hell, how do you know my name? What was that, back in the trailer?"

You hold out a hand in order to stop the line of questioning right there. He's clearly panicking, some. You imagine you'd probably be about the same, if not worse off. 

"I know you have pressing questions, but as I understand it, we have rather limited time before we need to act. I-" You pause, for a second and your throat feels like it closes off, but your breathing is never any worse for wear it's just uncomfortable. "For the record, everyone knows you. You're rather important to things.

"I'll be happy to answer any of your questions, though after I explain a few things." He opens his mouth in a way that is clearly to protest. "_Please_, Ranger Newton."

His mouth promptly closes, and you take your cue, stretching up and only taking a second to rub at an abnormal feeling spot just above your collarbone. You get the impression it might hurt, were you alive. 

"There is something in Kepler, and it's going to get stronger, and stronger. And you're the only one that can stop it. Will you help me?"

He narrows his eyes. "Do I got a choice?

You're so unprepared. Wasn't he supposed to want to stop it as much as you do? You need Minerva, she's been waiting for thousands of years. She'd know what to say to her hero of prophecy.

And thus you're left to beg. "Just help me to get my friend back, and she can explain everything to you far better than I could. She's missing her artifact that she needs to appear as I do. I...She's here, but you can't speak with her easily without it."

It takes him a moment but he agrees. "That's it, though. I'm not making any promises other than that."

"I wouldn't expect that, of course. Oh, I should've asked first. Are you okay? I've never...done that, before."

"Possessed a human, you mean?" He doesn't look thrilled about that, and you wonder if you think too hard about blushing them you will. But you nod, anyways. "Just tell me what to do, okay?"

"Have you..." Your stomach clenches up, for a moment you wonder if you can say it, even. "Have you ever heard of the Amnesty Lodge?" 


	6. Chapter 6

The Amnesty Lodge. 

You're headed to the Amnesty Lodge for some reason that you're not quite comfortable with at the moment. Maybe you'll manage to pick up lunch while you're there. You aren't sure what Indrid would think of that, but to be fair he can't really do anything until you give him back his glasses back.

The Amnesty lodge isn't quite a frequent haunt (_haha_) of yours, but you do go there for lunch often enough that you're not really wandering in blind.

You're there to get Minerva's...thing. 

Artifact. 

Whatever Indrid had called it before. It's a sword, which is sort of weird and you aren't sure why a ski lodge has a sword and you're even less sure how you're going to sneak it out of there.

It's easy enough to walk in at least. And then it's easy enough to just keep going until you've reached a mostly clear spot in the busy lodge space, and then you sort of just stop, and take a long glance around.

Hmm. You probably should have asked for where you should start looking. Or maybe you should just start with something you know. Like soup. And Barclay, who is the Lodge's cook and seemed like a nice guy whenever you've managed to strike up a conversation with him.

So you slowly make your way over towards the kitchen, and peek your head though the door. "Hey, Barclay! D'ya think I could come in for a sec?" You hear a yes called out from inside.

You notice a bit too late that he isn't alone. There's one Ned Chicane, leaning casually against a counter and drinking something, right across from Barclay, who's wisking something over the stove.

Ned Chicane...there's a lot to unpack there, and you can't quite disguise your frown when you see him, but he seems as exited and over the top as he ever was.

Come to think of it, when did Ned Chicane even come back into town?

You've really been out of that sort of loop for a while, haven't you? No use dwelling on it now, as long as you aren't sitting down for dinner with him.

"Barclay, I'm about to ask a real weird question, but could y'just roll with me on this one and I'll tell y'all about it later?"

"Uh...sure, Duck."

"Have you see....uh...is there a sword in here?"

That question gets about the reaction that you should have expected. A raised eyebrow, and the distinct sound of Ned choking on whatever he's drinking over there.

Alright, bad idea. Then again, there weren't any better options, really. Right? God, you hope you didn't skip over something that would 've been easier, because that would've been exactly like you.

"Duck, I don't-" Barclay stops wisking for long enough to glare at you. "What kind of question _is_ that?"

You're quiet for what is probably way too long, but you're planning a story.

"Shit, I...It's an heirloom and-no, wait, just a second. I was thinking about taking up fencing?" _Ugh. _Ned's over there laughing. "Nah, look Barclay: I'm lying. It's just really important that I find it and I was told it was in the lodge, so if you could point me in the direction of anything that might help me?"

He shakes his head at the pot. "I dunno, Duck but I'm usually shut up in here all day. If anybody would know about that, it'd probably be with Aubrey or Mama. A sword, though?"

You give a shrug at the floor. "Yeah. Uh...like I said, I'm sure it'll be a fun story to tell later. is Mama around today?"

Ned's the one to cut in, which means you're forced to face the fact that yeah, the did still exists. "Nah, she's actually pretty busy talking to that government agent that showed up this morning. you heard about what happened last night, didn't you?"

An uncomfortable weight settles in the pit of your stomach, but you can't possibly imagine why. Actuallly, maybe you can but you really don't want to make that connection, so you try to put on a bit of an annoyed (maybe inconvenienced?) tone.

"Nah, I've had the day off, so I haven't been around to listen to the gossip."

"Not just gossip! " Ned scoffs with his usually bravado. "There was a murder!"

Now, maybe murder isn't news in a lot of places, you honestly can't say for sure since you've been stuck in Kepler for your entire life and you figure you'll be here for the rest of it.

But in a tiny, small-knit place like Kepler? Murder's a lot. Murder is _news_. But god, right now it's not seeming like a thing to buzz about for a month or two and then never mention again.

It's like...It's like there's a government agent in town and a ghost probably somewhere in your vicinity, and you're asking after a fucking sword in a ski lodge and what happened to your life in the last three weeks or so?

"What the hell happened for a fed to show up?"

Barclay cuts back in, winding a little at the question. "Some kids went missing out in the woods. they...uh....They didn't both come back. Not in one piece anyways."

"God, that's awful."

"Yeah uh...no kidding. But Aubrey's probably out by the springs if you wanna talk to her about...about a sword?"

"I'll go talk to her. Thanks for that, Barclay," you nod. "And Ned."

You feel a slight tug on your shirt, and then a bigger one. To the best of your ability you follow the direction of the tug, into a darkened area, and dig the glasses out of your pocket. They unfold and Indrid sort of flickers into existence in front of you.

You swear because even if you'd been expecting it, it just isn't right. He quickly apologizes and fixes his crooked glasses. "Something isn't right here."

"No...Well, no shit! I'm still waiting for someone to tell me this is all a joke."

"Not exactly what I meant," he says dryly. "That murder. Something isn't right about that. Be careful, Ranger Newton."

You take a quick look out around the more crowded part of the lodge, but you can't feel anything strange about it. It's just warm and cozy like you'd come to eexpect. "I'm never not careful," you reply and that might be a bit of an overstatement, but that's fine, he doesn't need to know that. "Why don't you like this place? You could just come walking in with me, that'd help out a lot."

His mouth contorts into a frown. "I..I know these people, they know me. But that isn't even all of the problem. They hunt ghosts, Duck. And other...things like us."

"Oh," You say it awfully quiet again. " Oh. Well...Sorry, then. But I'll go talk to Aubrey. You sure you can't get a better job at it than _'in the lodge's general vicinity'_?"

He shakes his head and gives you a quick, awkward pat on the back. "Nope. Apologies about that, but there really is no getting better than that. It's a bit of a finnicky art."

You sigh. Why has it been such a long day?

There's two girls sitting the hotsprings. Well, one in the springs and one next to it, talking animatedly at the other. You cough a little to get their attention. "Is one of you Aubrey?"

The one who's not in the springs nods. "Yep, that's me! whatcha need?"

You suddenly get awfully nervous again. "Do you have...Have you seen a sword? I need it for-well, it isn't important what I need it for, I just need it."

The two girls give each other a look, and then Aubrey looks back up with you. "Yeah, take it! But no going back on it, you take it, you don't get to give it back. There is only so much I can handle."

Its that easy? Why is it that easy? Should you be worried?

"C'mon," Aubrey says, practically hopping up. "Let's go get you Beacon."


	7. Chapter 7

'Beacon', as expected is the sword. Well, kind of. It's a pretty weird looking sword. It's got a mouth and well...

It's talking, but that's neither here nor there, although it does a pretty good job explaining why Aubrey is so eager to let you have it.

"Ugh. Lovely," it says just as soon as you walk into the room. "Another useless human. What are you going to do with this one?"

"Oh," says Aubrey, putting a hand up at her chest and batting her eyelashes. "I'm not going to go anything! He's going with _you_, and I never, never have to see you or him again."

The sword doesn't have a face, and yet it's fuming. Practically vibrating with anger. You don't like this sword, and if you were wondering what sort of person Minerva was before then you're really fucking wondering now.

What sort of person carries (uh carried?) A talking sword? Where do you even get a thing like that?

Nevertheless, it's coming with you. You wave awkwardly, despite Beacon's distinct lack of eyes.

"Uh, hey there?"

There is a very, felt long sigh from the sword. "No. Absolutely not. I refuse to leave with this pathetic excuse of a-" it sort of harrumphs as Aubrey hands it to you, slamming the hilt into your palm, but it picks up the complaining pretty quickly. "Where are your people's warriors?! Where are-"

Aubrey reaches out to shake your hand as Beacon rambles on in the background. "Good doing business with you. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to my spot in the springs."

"You're not even going to ask why I want it? I don't get to ask where you got it?"

She smiles, and shakes her head. "Nope. Not looking a gift-horse in the mouth and all that shit. Hook him on like a belt...Wait, you're not going to bring him back, right?"

You awkwardly rub the back of your neck. "Uh, no. I don't think that's going to be an option in this case."

"Great! See ya, whatever your name was! "

You follow her out of her room and back outside where she disappears pretty quickly, and you pass Mama, and hope she doesn't see the ridiculous sword-belt you're wearing. She's followed by a tall man in a suit, and your best guess is that that's the federal agent Ned had mentioned. You offer her a small wave, and get a nod from Mama in return.

You've met her once or twice, but in all honesty you don't know all that much about her. She runs the lodge, and she grew up in Kepler, like you.

She's more than just a bit of an enigma, and you wonder if that's because she's secretly a host Hunter or whatever like Indrid had said. You really, really don't want to get yourself into all of this mess that Kepler is turning out to be.

And plausible deniability, right?

Big red glasses fish themselves out of your back pocket as you shut the front door, and you have to say that you do _not_ like that, and you're definitely going to have a word or two with Indrid about what is appropriate and what is not.

"I'm glad Aubrey was so eager to get rid of it. Although...I think I see why."

"Yeah," you say, unhooking Beacon from where it is currently holding your pants up. "No kidding. What now?"

He starts to wring his hands again and pace back and forth. "You wait. I'll get Minerva as fast as I'm able and then we can talk. She didn't leave long ago, she can't be far."

"How long should that take?"

You can't help it you're feeling a tiny little impatient. After all, who wouldn't want to get all of this over and done with?

"I...I'm not sure. Not long. You can just set my glasses on the coffee table with Beacon and I'll be back before you know it."

You nod, and watch carefully as Indrid pulls off his glasses (you close your eyes at the part where the glasses aren't sitting in his nose and you can see...all of that mess again) and neatly fold and sit them neatly on the table in front of the couch.

You sit Beacon there too and try to ignore it's constant grumbling. There's a cool just of wind and a sudden sort of emptiness to the apartment all of the sudden.

And you should be happy that you're _finally_ alone...but you're kind of not.

And so you sit on the couch, near the arm, and just sort of look at the place where Indrid had sat earlier, and you wait. And you fall asleep.


End file.
